


Consumed (Bound For Life Remix)

by rosemary_madness



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: AND I HIGHLY REC YOU READ THE ORIGINAL, BDMS, Blood and Injury, Bloodplay, Creampie, Degradation, Don't Like Don't Read, Grooming, Intimidation, M/M, MORTY IS AN ADULT, Obsessive Behavior, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Read at Your Own Risk, Rough Sex, Self-Harm, THIS IS A REMIX, Victim Blaming, Yandere Rick, captive situation essentially, dark themes, force blood drinking, isolating the victim, like a lot of it, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemary_madness/pseuds/rosemary_madness
Summary: "He is being consumed by Rick each passing minute. He sees it in the pictures on the wall, hears it in the mindless babbles of his grandfather, and tastes it in the man’s blood working it’s way through his system. And as he feels the tears give way to choking and then into an exhausted stillness, Rick only continues to grow larger. His cock seems to expand within him and after one final thrust and groan from the elder, he releases inside of the brunet, taking up and filling all of the space that is left within him and dripping out with nowhere else to go."*Read at your own risk!! The story will only continue to get darker.*





	Consumed (Bound For Life Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlorinaLyndis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorinaLyndis/gifts), [RickSlamsTheMultiverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickSlamsTheMultiverse/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bound For Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759722) by [FlorinaLyndis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorinaLyndis/pseuds/FlorinaLyndis), [RickSlamsTheMultiverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickSlamsTheMultiverse/pseuds/RickSlamsTheMultiverse). 



> YOOOO so I was feeling very inspired by the work by @FlorinaLyndis and @RickSlamsTheMultiverse Bound For Life that they posted recently, and I was actually going to add directly to their story, but not wanting to skew their original intent and ideas, I followed the advice of my good friend (and badass beta) @KLaxAddict to write them an expanded remix instead. Thank you to all of you for my help and listening to my nagging. I will try not to let anyone down <3
> 
> I highly recommend you read their piece because it is awesome and meets my yandere thirst needs ♥‿♥
> 
> Anyway... I really hope you enjoy my take on their ideas. Kind comments and kudos are always appreciated.

It hurts his eyes, the darkness. 

As he wakes, Morty’s eyes fluttering open, all he sees is black.

It feels like his eyes are numb, unable to see whatever it was that resides around him, and that worries him more than the feeling of restraints nipping at his wrists and ankles. No matter how hard he tries to look and squints his eyes, he can only make out more of the black canvas around him. Is he blind? How did he get that way? And more importantly, where the fuck is he? 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, doesn’t even remember what he was doing last, and he certainly doesn’t remember getting dragged into whatever this place is. 

It’s odd to him though. It seems almost… familiar, much like the sound of a swirling portal or a shitty stab at other people as Rick argues that everyone else is stupid. He knows it's not his room, far too dark for that, and the uncomfortable vinyl rubbing against him as he squirms is nothing like what he has at home. It makes him want to cry that there’s no explanation to his situation. 

Morty feels as if he is inexplicably placed here, probably kidnapped by some angry mobsters his grandfather’s worked with, and kicks himself for the fact he hasn’t even gotten the guts up to say anything or truly struggle against it. It must be that familiarity factoring in, how Morty can’t shake that he’s been here before and isn’t as far away from home as he fears he must be. 

Realizing he hasn’t bothered to breathe, Morty sucks in a labored breath, mind tingling like it isn’t quite awake, and his nose taking a pull of the room’s scent. It’s a terrible smell. Not in the way that shit smells bad, but in a way that shitty memories hurt when they’ve been left to stagnate. 

Taking another painful drag of the stale air, Morty feels something flutter in his mind. Recognition. Among the smell of cleaning spray, glue, and metal, there is a scent he’s all too familiar with. Rick. It’s indescribable outside of his name, but its entirely him. It's the smell of clothes the scientist’s slept in because he was too caught up in some science thing, gear oil that he always has stained on him, and his personal odor with salt and sweat spattered around.    


Fuck. Did they lock Rick up in here too? Were they both taken prisoner by someone and awaiting execution? Had he blacked out on an adventure, getting him and his grandfather trapped in some terrible crisis? His breathing is turning into hyperventilating, and Morty starts shifting more frantically, looking for a way to find answers and figure out how to summon speech, when his thoughts are scattered by a light flashing on that’s all too blinding with its intensity.

It almost makes him scream, the sound strangled by his still half-asleep lungs and his mind lagging behind from either an injury or drugs. He squirms more, the restraints biting at his tender skin as he struggles, and he squints his eyes against the burn. He needs to figure out where he is, who is holding him, and if Rick is being kept here too. 

When his eyes finally adjust, his body stills as it succumbs to the pull of the fatigue and pain. He looks straight ahead and around him, scanning his splotchy sight around until it catches on the figure in front of him. 

It’s Rick, but he isn’t a prisoner as Morty expects, sitting idly on a folding chair. Though he appears to be roughed around a bit, hair a scattered mess, and his clothes wrinkled and discolored in some places, the look in his eyes betrays the chaotic array. The shattered glass irises seem to be swallowed by his pupils, boring into the brunet with a singular focus, certain in their stance. 

It scares Morty more than the thought of being captured by Federation agents. Sure, he’s been experimented on by Rick, or under his watchful eye as his grandfather knits together his wounds, but this is different. He’s only seen this look in Rick’s eyes a few times, and every time, Morty walked away doing his best to forget it. However, he’s got nowhere to run anymore. He’s stuck, strapped to this chair and facing his grandfather, feeling the full intensity of that stare. 

The man looks broken, if that could be any more possible for a Rick. He watches Morty with a resolute frown, lip dragged into an unsettling dip and his nose flaring as he sits cross-legged with his hands knit together on his lap. But it’s something about those eyes that really makes Morty shiver. Maybe it has to do with his vision still covered with scattered stars, but those eyes seem unafraid, unwavering, and unashamed as they bore into the brunet and speak of something Morty is sure he doesn’t want to see. It’s all the boy can do not to squirm under the scrutiny, let alone breathe. He wants to call for help, ask what is going on here and beg to be let go, but he just can’t summon the words. He is so out of control in the situation, that Morty doesn’t think he could, even if he had the guts to do it. He knows how Rick can be when he’s upset, so volatile and uncontrollable. 

_ He probably won’t do anything, right…? _ Morty remembers how his grandfather’s never left lasting scars on his body, so it doesn’t seem plausible to him that Rick would harm him in a vital way, at least. 

Attempting to think of what to say, or at least pull his eyes away from Rick, Morty looks up to the walls behind him. It makes him start to gasp for air, legs back to thrashing, and throat letting out a strangled cry of confusion and fear. 

All along the peeling white walls are pictures of him and Rick, or Morty all alone. Most of them are candid, or at least unknown to the brunet. Rick’s always staring ahead, smiling smugly at the camera as Morty looks unknowingly off to the side, bends down to tie his shoelace, or idly talks to his grandfather. How had Rick even taken these…? The question stings far more than his now tingling appendages as he looks at the photos of him alone, tucked in his bed and sleeping, or lathering soap into his hair as he showered, or even ones of him masturbating to porn as he laid propped against his headboard. 

His head snaps back to Rick, about to scream at him for answers when the older man pulls a small knife out from behind him, twirling it between his fingers and staring, still just as unfazed, back at his grandson. 

“You’re really selfish, Morty. You know that?” he grumbles, twisting the knife through the air in front of his lap and throwing a glare back at the brunet. 

It's all Morty can do not to choke as he hears the words. He doesn’t see how he’s the selfish one in this context, locked in this room and forced to look at these pictures and his grandfather like he is now. As he attempts to explain himself, Rick cuts him off from uttering a word. 

“You just haaaad to go and try to be a big man, huh? Huh? Do-Are you proud of yourself now? Now that you got me to show you all of this before the right mo--when I wasn’t planning to?” 

Morty’s growing increasingly more panicked with every word hitting his ears. With each breath, Rick seems to be delving one step further into insanity. What the fuck had he done that was selfish? He hadn’t even messed up any adventures recently as he finished up high school. 

“What are you talking about, Rick?” he squeaks, voice illustrating how scared and tired he is. “I-I-I don’t know--what you’re even saying.” 

Before he can say more, Rick is on his feet, his small chair crashing to the floor with his quick movements. He glares at Morty, staring him down from his tall standing position and walking a few steps closer. 

“Oh you know what you did, you-you little…! How dare you act like you don’t know.” 

Within seconds, Rick’s pulling off his lab coat, showing his blue shirt marred with dark stains seeping into the fabric. He throws an arm forward, rolling up its sleeve with harsh movements until it exposes the skin up to his elbow. Morty can feel himself going dizzy with the sight. The skin is covered in blood, straight and jagged lines of scars tearing along the ashen skin. 

“Wha-what the fuc-” he starts, quickly silenced by more of Rick’s tirade. 

He works off the rest of his shirt, exposing his near gaunt physique and hundreds of other scars along his arms and torso, many still bleeding or beginning to congeal. 

“You see all of these?” he growls, moving steps away from Morty, knife still in hand. “Each one is for a time you-you looked at someone else, flirted with th-those shitty girls at school and on adventures, or tried to ignore me. You-you gave me these scars, Morty, and you don’t even have the decency to remember what you did. That’s real cruel.” 

Morty wants to collapse with his lungs, the breath knocked square out of his chest like Rick had punched him. He starts gagging and desperately trying to pull more air into his lungs, but with each intake, Morty feels as if he’s smelling the blood, letting it run along his tongue. And yet, the kid can’t tear his eyes away. It’s almost as if it’s too horrific, too far-fetched to believe out of all the shit he’s seen in the universe. 

“I-I-I can’t--What are you even--?” he stammers, words tripping and falling out of his mouth, stopping dead in their tracks when Rick pulls the knife closer to his graying skin. 

“Rick, Rick, please, stop!” Morty says as loudly as he can muster, having to watch as the sharpened end disappears into Rick’s chest, the entry punctuated with a distinct  _ ripping _ sound. 

Now Morty can really smell the blood in the air and is left to only gag, eyes held captive as the blade continues to cut along the left of Rick’s chest in a deep, teetering line. 

“If you didn’t-didn’t want me to do this, then you shouldn’t have fucking acted the way you did!” Rick spits, stray droplets of saliva hitting Morty’s face. 

Morty’s going to ask what he meant this time, how his grandfather thinks he fucked up, but loses the option when the older man continues to rip through his skin and Morty’s ability to think. 

“Can’t even remember? Not when you-you were so fucking excited just a few hours ago? How fucking special and important could that college in Oregon be if you can’t even remember it?” 

_ That’s what this is about? This is about college? _ Morty screams to himself, knowing full-well that if he voices that aloud, Rick will only get more upset. But he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand any of this fucked up dream that he has somehow tumbled into, yet this just ices the bloody cake. 

As if to assuage his confusion, or perhaps enhance it, Rick speaks again, finally pulling the knife away from his skin, walking too close to Morty, and wiping the bloodied metal on the boy’s yellow shirt. 

“Why do you want to move? Why-why do you want to leave  _ me _ ?” He flings the knife off behind him, the metal grating against the wall like Rick’s hot breath on Morty’s skin. “Don’t you like the adventures we go on? Yo-you-you know I can give you everything,  _ everything _ , and yet it’s not enough for you… How fucking selfish.” 

Morty watches as the blood cascades down Rick’s chest, covering the skin in a diagonal flow of crimson and coating everything in its thick path. Suddenly, he can feel the bile rising in his throat with the promise of vomit soon to follow. But Rick is faster. 

As if taking the silence as proof of an unrepentant attitude, Rick digs his fingers into the wound and shoves them into the brunet’s mouth, using his other hand to clamp Morty’s jaw shut. 

Morty tries to escape, open his mouth, or at least keep the substance from going down his throat, but Rick is stronger than anyone his age should be. And the more he struggles, the more iron scrapes along his tongue and puddles at the back of his mouth. All he can focus on is the taste of it all, the way it was slithering out of Rick’s chest just moments ago, and how the same person’s fingers are still jammed inside of his mouth like he’s a fish stuck on a baited hook. It’s blurred nonsense when Rick starts talking again, wriggling his digits and tilting his head up to force the blood down. 

“I’ve been so patient with you, giving you all the clues and foreplay you could need to see the truth, but you just don’t seem to care. Maybe you just need me to be more cle-clearer. Is that what you want?” Rick punctuates by pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to hold Morty’s nose closed as well. 

With nowhere else to go, the blood finally disappears into his screaming stomach, but Morty can still taste it, smell the iron tang through his nostrils, and feel it seeping into his skin. He didn’t think he could manage to cry through the sheer shock of the situation, but before he knows it, he’s sobbing with nowhere to look but Rick and more blood. 

“‘Ri-Ri-Rick,” he chokes out, body shaking with the impact of the emotions surging through him. His hands and feet are going dead with all of his movements, the binds tightening on him, and he’s sure the skin is worked raw, but he can barely care. 

His grandfather just stares back at him, eyes dark with thoughts Morty avoids but hopes include remorse. And there is a glimmer of hope when he sees the man shake his head subtly and move behind the dentist-like chair. 

“Shoulda just paid attention, Morty. Should-shouldn’t have let your stupid boners lead you to stupid girls. But I’ll show you.” To back his threat, the chair begins to fold in on itself, bending Morty’s torso over his own lap and making it even harder for him to breathe. He knows he’s stupid, that whatever Rick has given him to knock him out has only worsened it by making him feel foggy and slow, but he instantly knows where this is going. 

“Please, Rick! I am so-so-so sorry! Please just forgive me! I’ll do anything!” he shrieks through the hot tears. 

He didn’t ask for any of this, didn’t mean to make Rick upset. There was no way he could have thought his own grandfather was coming onto him, not like this, and not when it’s literally illegal, but that doesn’t matter now. 

“Too late.” 

No matter how lost Morty feels, how undeserving he knows himself to be, he is still here: chained to a chair with chained wrists, blood everywhere around him, and his grandpa ready to rape him. 

There’s the sound of his pants and underwear being jerked down, the sound of Rick’s zipper opening, and then the deafening sound of something slicking along skin. But it all pales in comparison to the squelching sound of Rick ramming inside of his virgin hole, unprepared, with his thick cock. 

He lets out another scream, kicking his legs as much as he can and still trying to escape from the binds he’s sure have blood coating them now too. The pain makes him feel like he’s being ripped open, and it only gets worse as Morty feels the length press even further inside and then get jerked back out. 

“This could have been special, something you’d ask me to do, and I’d give you all of the little kinks and tricks that-that your horny little heart could desire, but nope. You had to choose this instead. Nice-nice going, Morty. You’ve forced me to mark you. You-you’re like my old-school bitch to claim, my official property as soon as I fuck you.” 

Rick works himself into a harsh rhythm, scraping his too thick and veiny cock against the tight walls of Morty’s entrance, and Morty just continues to cry until he has no more tears left. 

He is being consumed by Rick each passing minute. He sees it in the pictures on the wall, hears it in the mindless babbles of his grandfather, and tastes it in the man’s blood working it’s way through his system. And as he feels the tears give way to choking and then into an exhausted stillness, Rick only continues to grow larger. His cock seems to expand within him and after one final thrust and groan from the elder, he releases inside of the brunet, taking up and filling all of the space that is left within him and dripping out with nowhere else to go. 

“But don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it real nice for-for you next time,” Rick purrs, swiping fingers along Morty’s wrecked hole before walking back up to face him in the re-adjusting chair. He stands next to the brunet, their faces inches apart, and he runs his pink-coated fingers over Morty’s quivering lips with a smile. “Just had-had to teach you a lesson this time.” 

Morty stays completely still, waiting for something to happen that will liberate him, give him the waiting period before that “next time” he desperately wishes won’t come but can only hope won’t be soon. 

Rick watches him for a moment, taking in the boy’s reaction and nodding to himself, satisfied. He spares Morty a moment, dressing into his shirt and coat again, but offers him a final smile as he leans over and presses a small kiss to the boy’s bitten lips. 

He pulls away, his shadowing following close behind, and saunters over to the exit of the underground lab with a shameless smirk carved into his features.

“It’s just you and me, Morty. Rick and Morty forever and forever one hundred years.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by for the read! Again, I highly suggest reading the original if you want to see the badass version for the first chapter and basis for these interesting characters. The authors did a phenomenal job, and all of the credit should go to them for being wonderful :D 
> 
> Please no rude comments, and if you have any tags you need me to add, please let me know <3 I love you all and don't want to hurt anyone.


End file.
